The Diary of Jenny McFluff: The Wythenshawe Christmas Experience
Ahhh Christmas in Wythenshawe, that festive time when it is pissing down and one cannot get a space in the carpark at Asda unless they bribe a small child to dash into any available space as soon as a car even looks like it might have its key teetering on the ignition (To be honest, the kids here drive a hard bargain: 10 quid Sports Direct voucher and an iphone or they’ll slash your tires, it’s probably not worth it if you’re only nipping in for some cat litter) *Disclaimer: please do not bribe small children to save parking spaces due to any related hazards or harm that may arise (mainly to yourself) I have never actually done it myself…except that one time…
I did actually manage to squeeze my modest Ford KA between two glossy charcoal grey, chromed-up-to-the-hilt 4 x 4s which clearly were more suited to the carpark at Waitrose, where I’m sure everyone does civilised waiting for allotted spaces, hell, they’ve probably got a parking director waving you in at any given time. I bet they don’t elbow you out the way to get the last 10 quid bottle of Baileys at Waitrose, but where’s the fun in that?
Here, at Asda Wythenshawe, things are…well, a little more feral, but God forbid you walk IN through the OUT part of the barrier or be faced with the wrath of the security guard on the door who WILL make you walk all the way back around (because clearly, you will catch the ‘Rona if you walk IN through the OUT section.)
It adds an edge to my day: will I be told off or won’t I? Will I get a parking space or won’t i? Will I get inadvertently high from other people’s weed smoke, or won’t I? I haven’t had this much fun since 1998 when I discovered Bacardi Breezers.
Hey, I’m not knocking it, I LOVE living in Wythenshawe. Life would not be half as fun without a sea of Gregg’s sausage roll eating kids in Nike Airmaxes running amok in Civic. Indeed, one does not even have to purchase marijuana to get high, one simply has to walk to the shops and enjoy the herbal clouds of smoke drifting through the air—it’s like a fun game. Even more fun is remembering why I went to civic in the first place, because now I am here, I am f**ked, dilated pupils staring into the window of The Gift Doctor (hands down best shop in Civic) watching Father Christmas go up the ladder, then down the ladder, then up the ladder, then down the ladder, then up the ladder then down the ladder—I’m dribbling, I’ve got the munchies and I’m giggling like a tit.
Off to Gregg’s for a sausage roll it is.
Merry Christmas people of Wythenshawe and beyond!
© 2020 Gemma Malak